Code 302643, Experimental Mako and Jenova Infusion
by rokusan
Summary: 2nd elaboration. A clone once created in an underground laboratory -the copy of a man. He has his thoughts, and his insanity.
1. Prologue

Code 302643, Experimental Mako and Jenova Infusion 

* * *

He doesn't understand any of what has happened. 

He hasn't considered any of what has happened. 

At first, he doesn't know any better. What he sees he takes in without further question or emotion, save marvel, perhaps.   
At first, he has innocence like a child.

But like a child, he grows, and grows weary, and out of innocence and into manhood. Memories he cannot bring forward as real become familiar at one point in time. 

Now he floats, the substance around him resembling absinthe in color. He tries to remember whether or not he has ever tasted absinthe, whether or not he liked it. He can't remember. He floats in liquid the color of absinthe, but for all he knows, it is. 

His eyes always open to the same surroundings, and he gradually becomes aware of them and slightly bored of them, the way a fetus might bore itself with the rosy-orange glow filtering in through the soft wall his mother's belly forms. 

Yes, his surroundings may be bustling and full, but he still finds them the singlemost boring surroundings of the planet –you would too, if you had been in your absinthe for so long. All of it boring. 

Except, of course, for the books. 

Tall, bound in leather, antique books, more recent plastic-coated science bibles, tin-ringed manuals, international almanacs, catalogues, essays, reports, anthologies! He feels a pang like he always does when he sees them, as if he had read them once before but forgotten. He longs to read them again. 

Yes, he decides, lazily in a way. One day, I will begin to read. Never stop until I have taken in every bit of knowledge there is to be found in books. 

His gaze shifts to the ones beside him. He knows he is older than they are, even while they have existed longer. 

The people in white laboratory coats have always worked patiently with the three of them. Sometimes there is even a fourth. 

The people in white laboratory coats know what is going on. They are the ones in charge. It bothers him that he is not. 

He wonders about himself a lot. Ever since he can remember, he has had voices floating purposefully through his mind, informing him of things, asking him to inform them of things. He doesn't know any better. 

Eyes drift shut. 

a/n; umm, here's something small that could turn into something big. Don't ask who it is, you'll find out soon enough. Let me know honestly what you think. I don't know if I'm being original or not (after five years of playing this game, one would think I totally understood the mythology of it but noo), the next chapter will come as soon as I have the time, but for now, school and the Revealing still take priority.. 


	2. Ichi; one.

Ichi; one.  
  
He wishes he knew what the world is about and what his part in it is.  
  
He doesn't know how he would behave if he ever were to be released from the absinthe. He doesn't know how he would behave anyway; it is something he has noticed before. He has no control over his emotions sometimes. Sometimes, when a thought bothers him or when he is feeling cross, his thoughts scatter, he can't finish them, some mad passion comes over him and takes him over. He never knows what will happen then.  
  
He might start screaming  
  
[can't hear someone floating in absinthe]  
  
He might start crying  
  
[can't see someone drowning in absinthe]  
  
He might lash out to break the glass  
  
[can't see someone struggling, corked into absinthe]  
  
Sometimes he wishes the glass would break. Othertimes, he fears he will suffocate if exposed to the openness in the room that the people in white laboratory coats are always exposed to. He doesn't want the absinthe to flow away, and leave him naked in a broken bottle.  
  
But sometimes, sometimes he hates how everyone can see him, because he is naked, and floating. Then he tries to break the glass. It doesn't ever work, not when somebody on the inside pounds on thick glass bottle walls.  
  
Eyes close.  
  
*  
  
He watches in fascination as a long metal needle comes nearer, driving its path effortlessly through the absinthe. The way the needle glints, it reminds him of something else. He tries to remember but can't. Only that the other thing was long and slender and beautiful, and glinted more than the needle now in his heart.  
  
He finds it the strangest sensation in the world, to have a thin piece of metal half inside you, in the body parts known only to your unconscious, or to a surgeon. The other half juts out, like a blind worm foetus finding its way slowly but purposefully out of its host.  
  
The needle adds something to him, he can feel it. At first it terrorises the softer interior of his veins. He jerks rythmically and hates it. Then, it turns to ecstasy, to a drug. It tingles, glitters in his flesh, grafts itself into his bones.  
  
It coats him in sugar and curry, and stars on a midsummernight's dream. He feels undaunted, ready to dance and swirl and leap and surprise and plunge and run and fight.  
  
Fight!  
  
Yes, this newgranted power, this feeling he recognizes somehow, it has borne him a Purpose.  
  
Fight!  
  
a/n; disturbing? Confusing? Good, it's supposed to be. And for the weaker at heart.. *grins evilly* enjoy =] ahah.. no. I plan on putting in some rather disturbing metaphor lateron. Bear with me. 


End file.
